


The Morning After

by loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (no farmer!lance), F/M, Future Fic, Lance (Voltron) is Cut, Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Soft Plance, heavy introspection, light floof, r i s q u é
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS/pseuds/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS
Summary: She’d traded fifteen years of friendship for a night of fun, and Pidge couldn’t help but think this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> finally got my brand spankin’ sleek, shiny new laptop for work and decided to break my new baby boo in with some quick nsfw story  
(she’s not ready for the hardcore smut yet tho)

Despite the fact that Pidge had strategically arranged the furniture in her bedroom to prevent any light from possibly striking her face and forcing her up well before she wanted to, she still got awoken by an outside source.

A bird rapping on the window pane and chirping obnoxiously.

Pidge kept her eyes shut in hopes it would eventually lose interest, but when it became apparent that the dumbass bird would stop at nothing to disturb her, she sighed, getting drawn completely out of the land of dreams.

And it was then that she started to register the heat from the body plastered against her naked back and the soft snores drifting in her ear and above all that, the twitching dick pressing against her ass. She glanced at her alarm clock on her nightstand, surprised to see it was well past two. She probably would’ve slept the whole day away had the bird not disrupted her rest.

Her confusion didn’t set in long enough before it all came crashing back so quickly it almost made her dizzy. The Voltron dedication gala hosted by the garrison, receiving a medal of service with her fellow paladins, twirling around on the dancefloor, the amazing stuffed squash blossoms, the champagne…

Sleeping with Lance.

Pidge rubbed at her eyes as she adjusted to the light coming through the blinds and illuminating her bedroom. Her head was lightly pounding, as was customary for her post drinking champagne, but at least she didn’t feel sick to her stomach. Nauseous because she was hungry, yeah, but she was doing better than usual. And really, she didn’t feel at all unpleasant save for those minor inconveniences. It could easily be resolved with a bit of caffeine and something to munch on. All in all, she felt refreshed. Even the aches between her legs and under her navel (and her thighs and hips and back and arms too for that matter) were a somewhat pleasant reminder of how good of a dicking down she’d gotten the night before.

But she had no idea how it even happened.

It’d been a fun gala, honestly the most fun she’d had in a very long time, but when Lance had offered to give her a ride back to her place since Matt borrowed her car, she hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d chilled at her place to sober up a tad and she remembered trying to make coffee and spilling some beans down his pants on purpose and he’d sprayed her with her sink’s detachable nozzle and she’d tried to run away and he’d cornered her against the counter and next thing she knew, their lips were entangled in a bruising kiss, hands all over each other like they couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t like she’d set out with a plan to sleep with Lance. And it wasn’t like he gave her definitive _looks_ that pointed to him wanting her. (Although there were those couple of times at the gala when she’d caught his gaze lingering far longer than it should). Yet somehow, waking up completely rested, ensconced in his arms, his slow breaths tickling the back of her neck, sheets damp, and their bodies sticky from sweat and their dried slick wasn’t as shocking as she expected it should be.

(Or maybe she was still too groggy to think about it…)

Pidge yawned, moving Lance’s arm from around her waist and pulling herself out from the stifling heat under the covers. She instantly missed the warmth, especially when she set her feet on the glacial hardwood of her bedroom and a full bodied shiver went through her.

Lance shifted with a small grunt, and she turned and eyed his physique absentmindedly. The broad shoulders, the taut contours of the muscles of his arms and abs, the tattoo covering his deltoid, the trail of dark hairs disappearing beneath her covers and leading to something that most definitely afforded him bragging rights. It’d been overwhelmingly sexy feeling the strength of his arms when he’d lifted her with ease. Feeling the tense muscles of his back beneath her hands as he drove into her again and again. Watching the intense look of concentration in his dark eyes as he brought her well over the brink of pleasure.

It wasn’t like she was shocked at his physique or anything. He _was_ a fleet captain afterall. Of course he’d have to be in shape, but sometimes it was hard for her to reconcile the man she was looking at with the noodle-like boy she used to know. Then again, it wasn’t like she’d paid enough attention in all these years to notice the attractive changes he’d gone through.

It was funny.

Fifteen years they’d been friends and she’d been largely indifferent to him, but now she could honestly see why the her of last night had jumped to ride that train…

The soft gurgle of her stomach reminded her of her body’s need for sustenance, and Pidge stretched her arms far above her head, arching her back until a satisfying pop resounded through the room and her tense body loosened. Lance muttered some incoherent nonsense before pulling the blanket up further and burrowing in his cocoon. He was totally worn out, but she didn’t blame him considering how hard they’d gone at it the night before.

Pidge stood up and hobbled to the bathroom to clean herself up a bit. She wanted a shower, but her pipes were noisy, and she knew it would wake Lance up, and she needed a bit of time to herself to think about things. As she set about brushing her teeth, she tried to figure out what to say when Lance inevitably woke up and they inevitably would have to talk about what had happened between them. Because even though she’d fucked one of her best friends, she honestly couldn’t figure out _what_ she felt about it.

The sex was amazing and above that she knew she’d wanted it, which was weirding her out because she’d never seen Lance as someone she would ever be interested in. Shiro, absolutely. He was her unrequited first love. Keith? Definitely started to crush on him years ago. She’d entertained inappropriate daydreams about him multiple times mostly towards the end of the war, but even then, that had tapered away with time.

But Lance had always been the goofball friend who couldn’t be suave to save his life—the guy she saw as a clown more often than not—who’d constantly gotten goose eggs on his head because of how many accidents he had. Sure, he was always kind of cute to her, and when he wasn’t irritating her, she’d had a lot of fun with him, but she’d never looked at him and hoped for something romantic or sexual to happen between them, so it added to the strangeness of the current situation.

And it wasn’t like she was still on the rebound. Her divorce was a year ago, and while losing her four year marriage had stung, the split with her alien ex-husband had been amicable and mutual with no lingering hard feelings between either of them. Sure, her marriage failing was a sore topic sometimes and she missed being able to wake up next to someone she loved. And when Lance wasn’t hanging out with her after work, it was too quiet sometimes, a sort of gloom suspended in her condo that made it a little unpleasant, especially when she had urges and there was no one to come home to.

Regardless, it hadn’t influenced her decision to sleep with Lance at all.

Pidge crept her way out of her bathroom and headed to her door. There were various articles of their clothing scattered about the hallway. She almost tripped on her gown right outside the door, a reminder that they hadn’t even made it inside the bedroom when Lance finally entered her.

(That Lance had pounded into her from behind, locking her wrists above her head, lips sucking on a sensitive spot below her ear, and had made it impossible to breathe when he’d set off on a blinding pace).

Heat flared under her navel, and she scooped up Lance’s shirt at the entrance of the living room, pulling it on and buttoning up what buttons remained. She spotted her bra hanging from the _ceiling fan_, Lance’s pants somehow slung onto her bookshelf, her panties resting innocuously on top of her fruit bowl. Honestly, they’d gone at it like animals.

Pidge headed into her kitchen, kicking aside her abandoned stilettos and the scattered beans as she set about grabbing an egg and a frying pan to make a quick breakfast. As it fried, she pulled down a mug to make some hot chocolate. She was mostly going through the motions at this point, her mind distracted, turning circles of each and every way he’d taken her, unrelenting, all night. Of how she’d been seized by rush after rush of sensation so intense she couldn’t make sense of time anymore. Her heartbeat slowly picked up, and as she watched the milk heat in her microwave, the gravity of the situation hit her hard.

She’d _slept with_ Lance.

Her face flushed as she recalled the sensation of his lips on her overheated skin. The way he’d gripped her hips hard enough to bruise while he’d buried himself deeper and deeper in a perfect rhythm until white lights had scattered behind her eyes. How easily she’d lost herself when he went down on her, his tongue working magic in her until she was a whimpering mess. How intense it had been to watch their bodies merge when she rode him until they were both having trouble catching their breath. And she didn’t even want to think about the filthy things they’d said to each other throughout.

This was by far the stupidest thing she’d ever done.

No matter what happened in the future, they couldn’t ever take this back. They couldn’t pretend that they hadn’t shared something so intimate with each other. And the worst part was that it hadn’t all been wild uncontrolled fucking. She could distinctly remember how Lance had held her close, the way he’d made sure to give each and every part of her body his undivided attention with his lips and tongue and fingers. And especially the way he’d held her gaze when he’d fucked her torturously slow, something tender alight in his eyes that made her heart thump wildly fast in her chest.

(Kind of like it was doing now).

Pidge took the heated milk out with trembling fingers, letting out a long breath as she put the chocolate powder and honey in and swirled a spoon in the malted beverage. It was that _something_ that confused her most. Not because she was surprised to see it on his face, but because it wasn’t unfamiliar. Honestly, it was an expression she could trace back to the year after the lions had left. The look had intensified more recently, but she hadn’t chalked it up to much more than Lance’s typical warmth towards her.

Except he’d given her that look while they’d been having sex, gazes locked, arms wrapped around each other as they shared each other’s air.

And there was no excusing that.

Pidge was so lost in memories of his hot mouth sucking on her breasts, tongue swirling around the nipple, she didn’t realise her egg was burning until she caught the pungent odour and rushed to cut the stove and remove it. It was completely plastered to the pan, crisped up and burnt beyond recognition, the yolk looking like a rubber deflated sac. She ran a hand through her hair, chuckling in dejected amusement before giving up and grabbing a pack of cookies to snack on instead. Pidge plopped down on a stool around the counter, dipping a cookie in her hot chocolate, letting it sit and soak up some of the cocoa drink.

She’d been working with Lance a lot for the past few years because she was the assigned tech developer for his entire fleet’s standard expeditions, but she never would have expected this to come out of it. They’d had sex—mindblowing sex—and she didn’t know how to analyse this situation, because realistically, things shouldn’t have gotten so heated in the first place. Right…?

She munched idly on a mushy cookie, running through the events of the night again to figure out if she’d missed something in their interactions that explained why. For her, she figured it was because Lance had been abnormally attractive to her last night, especially with the pressed suit and the deep blue tie that matched his eyes. Plus, he’d trimmed up and cleaned up his beard, and he smelled like heaven every time they’d danced, but she wasn’t the kind of person who got affected by the Tux Effect. It had to be something else, and while she wasn’t particularly in any mood to dissect what that was, she knew they wouldn’t be able to figure any of this out if they didn’t ask themselves the hard questions.

(Her biggest one being if there was a possible chance she might be into Lance and didn’t realise it).

Any of her further thoughts were interrupted when Lance dragged his feet out into the living room in just his boxers, a boisterous yawn leaving his mouth as he headed to the kitchen. Pidge froze and stared at him, cookie part of its way into her mouth, though she struggled to figure out what to say when he noticed her and greeted her cheerfully, like not a damn thing was amiss.

“Uh… hey, Lance. M-morning.”

If he noticed her awkwardness, he thankfully didn’t say anything, though he did yoink the half-eaten cookie from her fingertips and popped it in his mouth. His proximity had a sudden memory flashing in her head of Lance pinning her legs over her head and mounting her and taking her hard and fast until she had to use a pillow to quiet her ever growing cries. And if he noticed her face flushing hot, he again, thankfully didn’t say anything.

“No greasy breakfast for a hangover?” Lance asked as he rounded the counter to check the stove.

“You’re welcome to eat those charred remains…” she drawled, nibbling on the end of another cookie.

He lifted the pan upside down and shook it a bit only to watch the egg not budge. Pidge stuck her tongue out at him when he laughed at her failure. “You want a frittata? I’m sure those cookies aren’t doing it for you considering your voracious appetite.”

“I could eat real food, I guess.”

Lance hummed in agreement as he set the oven to preheat. He rummaged through her fridge, perusing the contents before procuring some spinach, cherry tomatoes, peppers, shallots, and scallions and set to work cutting them up. Pidge took idle sips of her hot chocolate, watching Lance as he made quick work of getting the cut pieces sautéing in her skillet in a light amount of olive oil. Pidge wasn’t sure what his game was, but him acting like it was perfectly normal that they’d done this was throwing her for a loop. Maybe he really did just see it as an opportunity to have a night of fun. Maybe she was blowing this all out of proportion. But sitting here pretending like something monumental hadn’t happened between them definitely wasn’t the way to go.

“Lance… we need to talk.”

“I agree. But it doesn’t have to be weird, you know?” Lance remarked quietly as he pulled out a few eggs, sour cream, and grabbed her block of gruyere and the grater. He cracked the eggs in her mixing bowl and added some of the cream and set to work whisking the eggs. “Us sleeping together.”

She raised a brow. “Yeah, of course. Since friends _totally_ sleep together all the time…”

“I mean, it _is_ a common situation,” he joked, glancing over his shoulder before going back to beating the eggs in the bowl. “There are hundreds of media dedicated to this topic alone.”

“Lance. It’s not funny. I’m actually on the verge of freaking out and the only reason I haven’t is because I have a champagne hangover.”

He didn’t say anything in response, focused as he added oregano, garlic salt and onion powder, and some black pepper. Once he’d whisked up the egg mixture a little more, he tossed the vegetables in the skillet before pouring in the egg goo and letting it cook on the stove. It was hot watching him work, but even her enjoyment of Lance making breakfast in her kitchen in just his boxers wasn’t enough to distract her from her current plight.

Whatever had passed between them couldn’t be made light of, no matter how blasé Lance seemed about this whole thing. And she couldn’t justify any reason why they’d had sex all night when they hadn’t even really been drunk enough to be making stupid decisions like that in the first place.

So where did that leave them now?

After grating half the cheese onto the top, Lance put the skillet in the oven and set the timer before straightening with a sigh and walking over to her side of the counter to sit in the stool beside her.

He eyed her pensively, looking like he was trying to figure something out. “Okay, let’s talk. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you freaking out? Is it really that weird that we ended up in bed together?”

“Weird isn’t the right word for it…” she muttered, avoiding his gaze by staring at the slowly drifting bubbles in her mug. She folded her forearms on the surface, willing herself not to start up her nervous tick of rubbing at her arm. “It’s… _confusing_. I’m not mad it happened, but I just can’t figure out why we let it.”

It kind of made sense in her heart how she ended up sleeping with him, even though her head hadn’t caught up yet.

“Really?” Lance leaned his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his palm and giving her an amused look. “I would have thought it’s pretty obvious that we’re attracted to each other. And that maybe, you know, maybe we… kind of like each other. As more than friends.”

She groaned, climbing off the stool to relax her sore hips a bit. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“…Liking me?”

“Lance, I don’t know how I feel about you,” she responded honestly, glancing up and meeting his gaze. He was keeping his expression carefully blank, and Pidge got the sense that he was anxious too. “On the one hand, what we did makes it obvious that we have unresolved issues we probably need to figure out, but on the other hand, I can’t figure out where the hell this came from, and I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to really think about it. I mean, yesterday night we arrived at the gala, and you were _just_ my friend Lance, goofball extraordinaire. And four hours later, you were eating me out on this counter. And now I’m unsure if I even want this to stop, but it’s all so fast. What am I supposed to think?”

“…Does it help if I told you I have feelings for you?” Lance asked quietly, a nervous anticipation on his face as he scratched at his tattoo.

Her brows skipped up high on her forehead at the admittance. “_What_…? No, that doesn’t help. That makes it worse!”

Lance _liked_ her?

That brought up a whole slew of other problems and now she was questioning how long he’d had those feelings and what she’d clearly missed in their interactions. Had he been reading into all their hangouts as something more? Had she unintentionally been leading him on? Had he been giving her hints about where he stood in their friendship and she’d just missed it?

“Pidge,” Lance said suddenly, cupping her jaw and calling her attention back to him. “I can physically see you overthinking it. Listen. Maybe you think I have these expectations now that we’ve had sex, and yes, I’ve been interested in you for a while, and yes, I want to be with you, but I’m not pushing you to start a relationship with me. I told you how I felt to make it clear to you where I stand in this ordeal so that it could help your decision in where you want to go from here. But for me, this wasn’t platonic at all.”

“I-I just— it’s just that… you’re one of my closest friends for life, Lance.” She stared at the hickey she’d put on one of his pecs. There was another one on his thigh and she knew an identical one was somewhere on his right hip, covered up by his boxers. “I won’t be able to slide back into our old friendship that easily. But it worries me because I know firsthand the consequences of mixing my personal and professional life, and it’s not like I can just ignore what happened between us, especially considering what you just told me.”

“Look. I know you’re still affected by your divorce, so I’m not asking for anything… _but_ I’m also gonna be around a lot for the next few months until my mission. So…” He loosely took hold of his shirt in his fingertips and tugged her forward between his legs, his expression serious as he met her gaze. “If you want to keep this going for a bit, even casually, I’d be cool with that too.”

“You don’t think it’s weird? Dating—or casually seeing each other—after this long? I mean, we’re in our 30s. We never saw each other that way before, so why now?”

“…I can’t explain it,” he said at length, scratching at the mark on his cheek, “but it only takes a moment. And I definitely had that moment where I looked at you once, and I couldn’t help but feel like there was something there.”

Maybe that was what she’d felt last night, right before he’d kissed her. A moment where their eyes met and all she could think about was that she wanted to be close to Lance. Closer.

“Maybe…” she mused, running both hands through her tangled locks before linking her hands at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Still kind of stuck on the fact that we had sex until the sun came up.”

“What can I say? I have a lot of stamina,” he said smugly as he slid his hands around her lower back, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

“My point being up until last night, we were best friends, and now I have no idea what we are or where we can go from here or if we can even go back to being friends because I’ve seen all of you and you’ve definitely seen all of me and it seems like we threw a grenade at our friendship. I just don’t want— I’m scared something casual will ruin us somehow, you know? I don’t want to toss a fifteen year friendship down the drain over one night.”

“Pidge, we’ll always be friends. And even if you want to forget this happened, we’ll still always be friends. I’m kind of scared too. But… it’s you.” His lips pulled up in a soft smile. “And quite honestly, there’s nothing scarier than scraping up one of your rockets and being on the receiving end of your subsequent wrath, and I’ve already experienced that—_twice_—so how much worse can this be?”

She smiled back, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“I don’t really have any answers either. But I know that what we did last night wasn’t a mistake. At least, not to me,” he added quietly, cupping her face with a hand and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

It was actually pretty touching, and even though she was uncertain, somehow there was something about Lance’s steady responses and the soft, hopeful gleam in his eyes that told her even if this messed them up down the line, they’d be okay. She trusted him. He’d always been a great boyfriend to his exes. She cared about him immensely beyond just their hookup. Plus it was _Lance_. He was attentive and he made her laugh, and she honestly couldn’t think of any other reason why not.

The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was to give it a go.

“It wasn’t a mistake to me either,” she admitted, leaning into his touch. “Although I am mad you put a dent in my wall so you’re paying for the repairs.”

“You yanked a couple buttons off my shirt, you know?” Lance gestured to the oddly buttoned front because so many were missing. He tugged on both sides to bring her closer and her forgotten arousal surged up again. “Clawed up my back too. And I think I’m partially deaf in one ear.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it…” He popped open a button before dragging his hands down and teasing another one open. And another. And another. “Your neighbours probably complained about the noise though.”

She leaned in, just barely brushing her lips to his and watching his eyes darken. “Might have to file a noise complaint for this afternoon too…”

“Really now?”

He hummed, eyes on her lips as he undid the last button and the shirt fluttered opened slowly. A flash of heat danced up her spine from his expression, and when Lance lifted his gaze back to hers, she couldn’t take it anymore.

They met each other halfway, their mouths crashing together in urgent need and she moaned when he slid his hands around the skin of her waist down to her ass and hoisted her up on his waist as he stood. They hardly broke apart to catch their breath, tongues stroking each other’s as the kiss deepened, grew intoxicating, left her lightheaded. She gripped his shoulders, sighing when he tangled his hand in her hair, closing his mouth hot and heavy over hers. Honestly, the way things were going, she was sure they were going to end up locked in her apartment spending the entire rest of the weekend having marathon sex, and she was perfectly okay with that.

She ended up pinned by his body on the couch, Lance’s hips caged by her legs and relishing in his delicious weight. Pidge couldn’t contain her needy whimper when they ground against each other slowly, the friction of his arousal rubbing her reminding her just why she hadn’t been able to get enough last night. Lance panted against her neck, licking her skin and sucking it hard between his teeth as he trailed a path of hot, wet kisses along her.

“The food will burn, Lance.” She sighed breathlessly, sliding a hand in his hair, her eyes fluttering shut as he dragged his lips further down from her collarbone. “Can’t start this right now.”

“If you think I can’t finish in two minutes, you’re sadly mistaken,” Lance muttered jokingly, head lifting to give her a goofy grin.

“Oh trust me…” she snarked sweetly as she patted his cheek. “I _know_.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed slowly. “Oh… you are so gonna get it.”

Then he started tickling her, wedging his fingers into her stomach. Pidge shrieked with laughter, kicking out and writhing under him and trying to avoid his savage assault on her poor abdomen. She couldn’t catch her breath and there was no way to escape his unrelenting attack.

“_Lance_!” She squealed, trying to push away his hands. “Lance, no!”

“Take it back, Pidge.”

“Fine! Holy shit, I’m sorry!” He finally moved his fingers away, snickering, and she glowered at him with a cute pout. “Dammit. I’m sore, you idiot!” 

“I mean, you insulted a sex _god_. How was I supposed to react?”

She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “You’re such a damn dork.”

Lance crawled back over her, arms braced on either side of her, his expression sobered up.

“…Hopefully yours, one day.”

Pidge searched his gaze, her heart stammering in its beat from the sincere warmth in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, deeply, and while it wasn’t like they’d been impersonal before, this one felt different. Softer. Sweet.

Full of unadulterated affection.

Pidge smiled against his lips when he settled on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, splaying her hands on his back to draw him closer. She decided it didn’t matter if the food burned. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

And maybe it had been kind of risky sleeping with Lance. Maybe it was risky taking this leap with one of her best friends, a person she couldn’t bear to lose like she had her ex. But she liked where this could be headed. And she wanted to give it a chance.

Who knew?

Maybe this thing with Lance really would become something, one day.

**Author's Note:**

> and one year later, they got married


End file.
